The Watchers

by Mark Andrew Olsen

  “Her arms were clasped tightly around this other woman, who I guessed must have been her mother or her sister, because the two of them didn’t look like they would ever let each other go. They had obviously been apart for a long time, yet the happiness of this reunion had wiped out any regret.

  “And then we came even lower, Jesus and I. Then, just as I didn’t think my sense of joy and wonder could possibly grow anymore, Jesus leaned forward and whispered into my ear, ‘This is just the beginning, my beloved. Just a preview of a foretaste of a beginning. I have so much blessing in store, Abby, that you could not even bear the knowledge of it, right now, if I showed it all to you.’

  “Just as He said that, I realized that we’d stopped moving forward. We had turned, in fact, and were moving back toward the gate.

  “And this question sort of drifted into my conscious mind.

  “So is this my time, or not? What am I doing here?

  “ ‘I am with you because this is not your time,’ He told me. ‘I have shown you this to comfort you. To give you the peace of knowing your homecoming will be a time of rejoicing. To give you the assurance that you have nothing to fear.’

  “ ‘Are we not going all the way in?’ I asked Him.

  “I felt Him hold me tighter to himself, gently. ‘No, my dear. Not today.’

  “And, Mara,” Abby said, “I can tell you that hearing Him say that was the single most heartbreaking loss I ever thought I would live through. At that moment, I would have chopped off a limb to keep going forward.

  “But He just smiled and said, ‘My dear, I showed this to you for another reason, more important still. I don’t want you to fear. You still have much to do, back in your life.’

  “ ‘But I’m dying.’

  “He pulled himself around to face me, and He smiled lovingly.

  “ ‘You leave that choice to me, Abigail. I will tell you when it is time to come home.’

  “ ‘You mean—?’

  “ ‘I only mean this. You have nothing to fear. To live is a rich adventure. To die, for you, will be a joy beyond imagination. Either way, you are in me, and I have nothing but good things in store for you.’

  “ ‘But please, don’t send me back. Please?’

  “He placed a great hand upon my shoulder, and His touch felt like an ocean moving through my body.

  “ ‘You have a mystery to solve, beloved one. And the solving of it will save many, many beyond yourself.’

  “ ‘Are they a part of this mystery?’ I asked, pointing in front of me.”

  CHAPTER

  _ 19

  “See, we’d landed, if you can call it that, and just ahead, walking slowly out from under the gate’s huge arch, was a group of about a dozen women. They were young and strong. Beautiful. I’d say proud, if you could picture a sort of pride that contains no trace of arrogance or haughtiness, but signaling a confidence in who you are and where you came from.

  “As they walked, they stared at me with these odd, knowing smiles. I looked into their eyes and felt love settle in and just cradle me.

  “ ‘Yes, these are the beginning of your mystery,’ Jesus said.

  “The woman closest to me, slightly ahead of the others, stopped and broke into a wide, glowing grin.

  “That’s when I noticed. The skin of these women glowed unusually bright in this light. And then something in my understanding sort of . . . clicked into place.

  “It was because their skin was black.

  “So black that it shined.

  “Every one. Black, or brown, if you want to say it that way. In fact, it seemed each woman’s skin color grew a shade darker from the first row to the last.

  “ ‘Who are you?’ I asked the first woman. That question may sound defiant, if you weren’t there, maybe even impolite, but I asked it with wonder in my voice, grateful that I’d even been able to make a sound.

  “She stepped closer, and I saw that her features were African. Her skin’s lean, tight sheen reflected light like a sheet of glass. Her lips were full and rich, her nose bold and broad. Her whole face, eyes especially, had given itself over to this dazzling smile that seemed to reach halfway around her head.

  “She did not answer, but from the warmth of her smile it seemed that she knew me. It simply wasn’t the kind of a smile you give a stranger. Even one you’re incredibly glad to see. Each face in that group wore the same expression. I could feel each of their smiles warm their way into my insides.

  “Instead of speaking, the woman in front reached out her arms. At first, I started to think it was some kind of ceremonial gesture. But then it felt like an actual hand was pushing me toward her. Suddenly I was so desperate to connect with her that I thought I would drop dead of longing the very next instant if anyone prevented me from stepping into her arms—although I obviously had no idea who she was.

  “So I did. I took one long stride and walked into her embrace.

  “I had no idea what her emotion was coming from, but as soon as I felt her arms close around me, something new and huge opened up within me. The sense of reunion surged and just overwhelmed me. If someone had figured out how to distill the sense of coming home into some kind of elixir, then I was now swimming in it. I felt home in every sense—emotional, spiritual, physical. I felt like I’d turned some huge corner. Like a homeless orphan who’d just been handed an identity and a home and a sense that I belonged.

  “At the same time, I became acutely aware that this made no sense. This reunion was supposed to happen between family members. I’d heard stories of souls being greeted at heaven’s gate by what everyone euphemistically calls ‘loved ones’—one’s family. Yet, in spite of all the emotions rushing through me, these were not my kin.

  “Then Jesus spoke again, and obviously He’d been reading my thoughts. ‘This homecoming is different,’ He said. ‘Your earthly mother will be here, although not for the reason you think. And the others you expected to see, you will not see.’

  “ ‘Why not?’ I asked.

  “ ‘That is your mystery,’ He answered in a voice so low that it almost sounded like a whisper.

  “At that moment, the lead woman released her hold and stepped back. She reached out and cupped my cheek and looked deep into my eyes. Still locked onto my gaze, she smiled a smile that was part wistful, part sad, part love, and part joy. Then she touched the center of my chest with the tip of her index finger.

  “She said a single word. It sounded something like Iya Agba.

  “Her gestures reminded me of Jane in that famous scene of Tarzan and his woman introducing each other. Like Iya Agba was my name. So I made to correct her, as gently and politely as I could. I touched my chest and said, ‘Abby.’

  “She nodded and smiled, like the sound of my given name was no surprise. She seemed to know Abby after all. But she reached out and touched me again. Only this time she did not speak the strange word.

  “Iya Agba rolled over me from just beyond her shoulder, this time loud and strong as a storm, deep and throbbing like the sound from a thousand mouths. Or maybe a million. I leaned and stared behind her. She had stood before a group of a dozen when I had first landed here.

  “Now I saw a crowd reaching farther back than I could see. The sensation of so many eyes fixed on me, so many faces smiling right into mine, almost knocked me back a step.

  “ ‘Lord, who are they?’ I asked.

  “ ‘Listen, my child,’ He said.

  “ ‘I’ve heard their name for me,’ I said, ‘but who are they?’

  “ ‘Listen, and find them,’ He said. ‘Find them and you will solve the mystery. Heal the breach. It is all I can tell you. I will see you soon, my precious one.’

  “And just that quickly I was back in my bed, sitting up and panting like a marathon runner. That was this morning.”

  “Wow,” said Mara, moving her eyes sympathetically toward the camera. “What a story. What an unforgettable journey. Now, what is this great mystery He was talking about?”

&
nbsp; Abby chuckled at the woman’s relentless journalistic instincts. “I have no idea, Mara. I’m still processing all this as I speak to you.”

  “Do you think He was telling you that you weren’t going to die?”

  “That’s a good question,” Abby replied. “But I don’t think He was telling me that either way. He was, for sure, telling me that I didn’t need to be afraid of either outcome. That no matter what, I had only wonderful things to look forward to.”

  “What can you tell our viewers about the aftermath of visiting heaven? Has it changed you? Has it changed your outlook?”

  Abby looked straight into the camera, her eyes bejeweled with tears. “Don’t fear death. Not if you know God. If you know Him, you have the most awesome experience ahead of you. There is a heaven. It’s completely real. A real place. A real destination. Before last night I had this hazy notion of what heaven would be like. It didn’t seem real. But now all that’s changed. I know it’s real. I know it’s incredible beyond words. My fear of death is just gone. The only fear I have left at all concerns this life. Here on earth.”

  “You mean physical suffering. It’s a universal fear, you know. Fear of pain, isolation. The process of . . . death.”

  “No, although I wouldn’t mind skipping that either,” Abby answered. “I mean wasting this time. I’m afraid of dying with the knowledge that I wasted the last days of my earthly existence. These days have a purpose beyond my knowledge, yours and anyone’s. And I’m feeling fairly good right now; the pain comes and goes. I have some good days left. Not a lot, at least not for certain. But just enough to make a difference. And whatever that difference is, I feel absolutely driven to make the most of it.”

  “So you’re going to leave this hospital?”

  “Absolutely. In fact, I might do it right after this interview is over. I want my last days on earth to be significant . . . to Him. To God. I’m not just going to lie here and wait for the end to come. I mean, once you know for certain that heaven is waiting for you, it puts everything else in a whole new light. My only fear is going into eternity with regrets. Grief for opportunities I had to make a difference, and squandered.”

  She turned back to Mara.

  “That means I’m going to solve this mystery even if it takes every hour I have left on this earth.”

  CHAPTER

  _ 20

  “Well, honey,” the talk host replied, her face aglow with the knowledge that the camera was back on her, “if there’s anything I can do to help you, I will. If you need an introduction, transportation, a little boost in the pocketbook, you just name it. The whole world is watching to see what you’ll do next—”

  She never finished the sentence, for a fierce boom! barreled through the room. Walls and floors trembled, and the ceiling tossed a fine plaster mist into the air. The overhead lights flickered and went out, leaving only the beams of waving camera bulbs, sharp as spotlights in the swirling dust.

  Somewhere, deeper inside the building, two gunshots rang out over the shouts of those trapped inside.

  And so it begins, Abby heard a voice warn deep within her.

  Fighting back the urge to cry out, she pulled up the sheets to shelter her face from the debris and her ears from screams assaulting them from every side. Something long and metallic fell from the mangled ceiling across the bed, striking her painfully on the calf. Mara was somewhere close, yelling out, “Extraction! I want an extraction!”

  Danger hung in the air, lying in wait—in the sting of her leg, the smell of smoke and dust, the desperation of anxious cries. Yet something strange was happening to Abby. She didn’t feel panic but remained totally calm and at peace. Fear seemed to approach her and then fall away, defeated. Could it be her brush with eternity had rendered her impervious to terror?

  Abby rolled off the bed, clutched a pillow over her head, and muttered into the linen, “God, I accept this mission. I’m dying to find out what this is all about.” Then she realized the words she’d used and let out a laugh. “Yes, Lord—no pun intended. But really, I can’t stand not knowing. I will leave here now and go search for the answers. So will you please get me out of here?”

  Just then, so soon after the prayer that Abby actually grinned at the timing, she felt a strong hand grip her by the upper arm and pull upward. Hard.

  “Please come with me, Miss Sherman,” a male voice spoke, close to her ear. “There’s been an attack against the hospital and we believe it may be directed against you. We need to make an emergency evacuation. Will you let me carry you?”

  “My father,” she said, “he’s here somewhere, looking for me.”

  “If he’s not in here now, then he’s being evacuated. No matter what. It’s best you come with me and let us find him later.”

  Before she could utter another word, strong hands forced themselves under her knees, lifted her shoulders, and pulled her effortlessly into the air. Abby opened her eyes and looked into the face of a lean man in his early thirties. His features were twisted by the strain of carrying her and peering through the smoke for a path, but he looked harmless enough. More important, he radiated strength.

  The familiar setting began to blur. Hospital room walls, which had been her home for two weeks now, morphed into a darkened, cramped hallway and then a nurses’ station jammed with green-garbed nurses and street-clothed media types all jostling each other and crowding the elevator and stairway entrances in their desperation to escape. The air about her grew thick with the clamor of panicked voices. Abby could hear Mara’s trademark drawl somewhere ahead of her, shouting for folks to stand clear, that Miss Sherman was coming through. Abby shook her head. Miss Sherman. She hadn’t been called that in years, and then only by a bossy high-school gym instructor.

  It struck Abby as strange and slightly wonderful that in a day’s time she had gone from being anonymous patient to having the world’s most famous woman acting as her de facto bodyguard.

  And then a wondrous thing happened. Despite the chaos and desperate self-preservation engulfing the room, the volume dropped entirely. Faces turned her way, suddenly calmed.

  With the shuffling of a hundred feet, a path opened up before them. A narrow one, perhaps, yet still a free space leading directly to a door marked with the brightest sign in the room, the one marked EXIT.

  Abby felt her breath pull up short and her eyes mist in amazement. A wave of humility and sharp gratitude descended on her.

  “Thank you,” she muttered as she passed by. “Thank you all so much . . .” She leaned over and tried to make eye contact with someone as she passed. A woman’s face floated into view—a nurse in her mid-forties, sandy blond hair pulled back tight, her face flushed, lips parted and panting. She stared at Abby with eyes wide and filled with wonder.

  A chill flew down Abby’s spine. I’m becoming a curiosity, she said to herself. She wondered if this was how accidental celebrities felt— you do something instinctive, some reflexive, inevitable deed, and as a result find yourself the object of a perplexing, if not frightening, adulation from everyone you meet from that day onward. And the thing just keeps on growing beyond control, all on its own power.

  Abby moved her gaze to the next person and gasped.

  It was Gladys, the African-American nurse who’d risked so much to come warn her about the Sight. The first one to give her a clue of what lay ahead. The brown face which had one day earlier brimmed with such resolve now seemed banded with strings of jewels. Abby blinked, looked again, and realized that they were everyday, beautiful tears.

  “I’m gonna find out,” Abby whispered fiercely. “I’m going.”

  Gladys said nothing, for she did not appear capable of words. She smiled lovingly, nodded and held out her hand. Abby reached out and managed to hook the tip of Gladys’s fingers as she passed by.

  “Iya Agba,” Gladys said. “I know that word from somewhere. Dreams, echoes, somewhere . . .”

  Their grasp pulled free, and just as quickly Gladys fell back into the crowd, her
voice with her. Abby cried out her name, but her friend was instantly beyond reach.

  They passed through the door and suddenly found themselves in a tight space, descending steps two at a time. This man is strong. Or maybe just desperate. She thought she heard another gunshot from somewhere above her, but the sound was too muffled and distant to be certain.

  “Hang on,” the man huffed. But it seemed clear to Abby that, despite his strength and skill, the man was under stress. Something had him scared. She decided he was her best bet and hung on tight for the ride.

  She felt him lean back, then lift his leg and strike something hard. A metallic door groaned out into twilight. The penumbra of a turquoise sunset and a parking lot, punctuated by swirling police lights, swerving headlight beams, and the racing of engines from those frantic to leave the area. A breeze she hadn’t felt in an eternity coolly greeted her cheeks and forehead.

  Things grew so frenetic on every side that Abby felt the need to close her eyes; the sudden motions were making her nauseous. Suddenly Mara’s shouting grew closer, and for the first time the man carrying her let out a shout.

  “Here! Right here!”

  She opened her eyes just in time to see a black Hummer dart beside them and shudder to a quick halt. Doors flew open and without hesitation she was carried inside. Deep leather and a luxurious hush greeted her at once. The doors slammed shut as a monstrous engine roared to life beneath her.

  She leaned her head back onto a cushioned rest, closed her eyes and breathed a quick prayer of thanks. Then, feeling the same resolve pour into her veins once more, she opened her eyes and straightened herself.

  CHAPTER

  _ 21

  ALONG A LOS ANGELES FREEWAY

  “You’ve done a good thing, sir, but I have to ask. Who are you, and why are you in my Humvee?”

  The voice belonged to Mara McQueen, turning and peering back from the vehicle’s front passenger seat in an uncharacteristic state of dishevelment. The unfortunate recipient of her razor-sharp inquiry was the man who had just pulled Abby from the floor of her hospital room and carried her to safety, the man who now sat next to her in the backseat.